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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985602">CyberLife Really Thought of Everything</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PechoraFlow/pseuds/Kale-y'>Kale-y (PechoraFlow)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Badass Connor (Detroit: Become Human), But also, Connor &amp; Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Elijah Kamski &amp; Gavin Reed are Half-Siblings, Elijah Kamski Being Elijah Kamski, Gavin Reed Not Being an Asshole, Gen, Hank Anderson &amp; Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, Hank Anderson Whump, Hank Anderson is Connor and Upgraded Connor | RK900's Parent, Protective Parent Hank Anderson, Temporary Character Death, This is gonna be epic, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, We're not really going to get really gorey, ayyyy all the angst with none of the sadness, bc I thought it would be cool and it is, but it's gonna be violent, featuring Connor using a bunch of ancient weapons against high tech, keep that in mind</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:33:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PechoraFlow/pseuds/Kale-y</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a simple security detail job - the last one before the Andersons left to celebrate the holiday season.</p><p>Now, Connor is dead, and Hank, Gavin, Chris, Kamski, and Chloe have been taken hostage by a man they call "the Colonel," who seems to be after whatever it was Kamski decided he needed the police to protect. And it doesn't look like anything can stop him.</p><p>Only problem? Connor isn't dead, and even though he is unarmed and against 30-odd hostiles, he is CyberLife's most advanced android. Besides, how "unarmed" can he be in a museum full of ancient weapons?</p><p>---</p><p>i blame my dad for all the die hard movies he just made me watch</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson &amp; Connor &amp; Upgraded Connor | RK900 &amp; Sumo, Original Chloe | RT600 &amp; Elijah Kamski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Android Whump Holiday Gift Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lights Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lehenne/gifts">Lehenne</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, Lehenne! You asked for Connor being a badass - I hope this lives up to what you were hoping for!!! ❤️❤️❤️</p><p>I will be posting chapters through the next month, but I couldn't leave chapter one on a cliffhanger two days before Christmas so have two chapters ❤️</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hank had been hoping to take a week off for Christmas - after all, it was Richard’s first holiday season (and Hank’s first one in awhile) and Connor had seemed incredibly excited. After finding out that Hank had let Christmas pass without a celebration the year before, Connor had been disappointed beyond belief. Hank had promised himself that he would make the next Christmas one for the history books, to make up for skipping Connor’s first holiday.</p><p>And so, Hank had pulled out all the stops. He reserved a table at a local Chinese place for Christmas Eve (an Anderson family tradition), he bought a good sized pile of presents and wrapped them himself, he researched Thirium-based food so that the two brothers could eat something, he took the RKs to a Christmas tree farm and had them pick out a tree, then dug out the old Christmas ornaments and let them decorate his house however they wanted (though, this turned into more of a military operation than a fun holiday activity)…</p><p>It was supposed to be perfect.</p><p>But, for whatever reason, Kamski decided to donate one of CyberLife’s oldest relics to the Museum of Technological Progression, and the commemoration was set for December 23rd.</p><p>And, of course, the prick had asked for police protection.</p><p>Connor didn’t seem to mind - <em>“It’s alright, Hank. We’re all ready for the holidays, anyway. What would we be doing instead?” </em>- but Hank was just thinking about the last batch of gifts he still had to wrap, the classic Christmas movies he wanted to show them…</p><p>But Fowler had made it clear: Connor, Gavin, Chris, Hank, and a handful of beat cops were going to be at the commemoration, or they would be handing in their badges as Christmas gifts for Fowler.</p><p>In the end, Connor and Richard had been the ones to convince Hank to stop arguing. Richard said he had a few reports he wanted to finish up before the holidays, anyway, and Connor said that he had been meaning to see the MoTeP for some time and was excited to go.</p><p>So, there they were, stationed in the front lobby as they waited for Kamski to show up.</p><p>Connor adjusted the sleeves of the leather jacket he had picked out from Goodwill however many months ago.</p><p>Hank raised an eyebrow. “Nervous?”</p><p>“No,” Connor said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Force of habit.”</p><p>“You’re allowed to be nervous, kid,” Hank said. “If I were you, I’d be figuring out how I could get away with socking him in the jaw.”</p><p>Connor swallowed back a small smile. “I believe Fowler would be unhappy with my performance.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, you’d have every right to hit him,” Hank said. A hovering black car pulled up on the front steps of the museum, and Hank groaned. “Speak of the devil.”</p><p>Connor started fiddling with his jacket’s sleeves, again.</p><p>“You sure you’re not nervous?” Hank asked.</p><p>“I’m sure,” Connor said, shooting him a reassuring smile. “I’m afraid that this jacket doesn’t fit quite right, and it has been bugging me, lately. Not that I don’t appreciate that you bought it for me,” Connor hurriedly corrected. “I enjoy this jacket very much-”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” Hank said, brushing it off. “You needed a jacket, you wanted that one, so you got it. No big deal. Nothing ever fits perfect, anyway.” <em>Except the replacement leather jacket that I just wrapped yesterday and hid behind the armchair in my room.</em></p><p>“When I asked them to send protection, I didn’t expect them to send the whole welcoming committee.”</p><p>Hank tried his best to disguise his disgust - he really did - but judging from the bemused expression on Kamski’s face, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Chloe stood next to him, both of them dressed to impress even though the reporters were not allowed inside the building for security reasons.</p><p>“Good evening, Mr. Kamski,” Connor said, his social protocols kicking in. “If you’ll come with us, we’ll lead you to the CyberLife section of the exhibit. The museum curator is already-”</p><p>Suddenly, large steel doors slid down from the ceiling, slotting into place over the glass front doors of the museum.</p><p>“What the hell is going on?” Hank demanded.</p><p>“I’m patching into the museum’s security system now,” Connor said, instantly serious and professional. His eyes were closed, and his LED flashed yellow as he concentrated.</p><p>Gavin pulled his weapon from its holster, and Chris followed suit. “I’m not the only one getting a bad feeling from this, right?” Gavin asked aloud. The other police officers drew their weapons as well, eyes scanning all directions, ready for anything.</p><p>Kamski glared at Gavin. “I thought I asked for this building to be secured. I have <em>very </em>dangerous technology that-”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re worth your weight in gold,” Gavin said.</p><p>“More than that, actually.”</p><p>Gavin snarled. “Shut up-”</p><p>Connor grabbed Kamski and Chloe and pulled them towards the security desk. “Get down!” he yelled.</p><p>A half-second later, blinding light filled the room, and gunshots echoed around the space. Hank cursed, diving behind a nearby pillar and drawing his gun.</p><p>The noise was deafening. He couldn’t tell who was shouting, who was shooting, or where the noise was coming from. It was everywhere, echoing and doubling the volume. If he didn’t come out of this with significant hearing damage, he’d be surprised.</p><p>Hank waited, knowing that peeking out behind cover when he had no idea what was going on was a stupid decision.</p><p>Unfortunately, one of his adoptive sons was an expert at making stupid decisions.</p><p>He nearly jumped a foot in the air when Connor dove over a nearby trash can to take cover behind the pillar next to Hank, dodging gunfire as he went.</p><p>“Are you <em>nuts</em>?!” Hank yelled.</p><p>“I counted thirty-two hostiles!” Connor yelled back. “They came in from the employees-only door and from the maintenance shaft. Likely professional, from their weapons and tactics.”</p><p>“What’s the play?” Hank asked, because even though he was the commanding officer, he wasn’t a walking probability calculator. He couldn’t choose the objectively best solution, and with so many lives on the line, he didn’t want to hazard a guess.</p><p>Connor snuck a glance around the pillar, then returned to looking at Hank. “I can take out the two in the rafters. I have instructed Mr. Kamski to try and bring the security system back online. Hopefully, Captain Fowler will send backup to assist. If not, Plan B.”</p><p>“Am I gonna like Plan B?” Hank asked, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Connor merely smiled innocently, and Hank rolled his eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me - I don’t wanna know what it is.”</p><p>Nodding once, Connor returned to Business Mode. He loaded a round into the chamber of his service weapon, then peered back around the pillar. He fired only two rounds and turned back, ducking behind cover as the gunfire concentrated on his position.</p><p>Connor looked over at Hank. “Thirty hostiles.”</p><p>“Where are the others?” Hank asked. “Any casualties?”</p><p>“Officer Miller was shot in the shoulder,” Connor reported. “He should be fine, if everything goes according to plan. Detective Reed, Mr. Kamski, and Chloe are uninjured. The other officers that were on the scene have turned against us.”</p><p>Hank blinked. <em>“What?!”</em></p><p>“I suspect they have a cybercriminal of some skill on their side,” Connor said. “They were somehow able to convince Captain Fowler that a separate precinct would be sending backup, allowing their own men to infiltrate the museum." His LED spun yellow. "Honestly, with everything they've managed to pull off so far... Who knows what else they’ve set up?”</p><p>“Not helpful, Connor,” Hank snapped. “Do we have a chance of getting out of here before Fowler shows up, or not?”</p><p>“Statistically speaking-” Connor started.</p><p>And then, the building shook, and the lights went off.</p><p>The gunfire stopped.</p><p>“Lay down your weapons!” an unfamiliar voice called out. “We have you outnumbered! If you want to get out of this alive, you will cooperate and obey all instructions!”</p><p>“Connor,” Hank whispered, squinting to try and see through the darkness. “I think now’s a good time for Plan B, son.”</p><p>There was no response.</p><p><em>“Connor,”</em> Hank hissed.</p><p>The emergency lights kicked on, bathing the room in dim red light. The pillars cast shadows around the room.</p><p>And there was a semi-automatic rifle pointed at Hank’s face.</p><p>“Drop your weapon, Lieutenant Anderson,” the same voice from before said. Hank couldn’t make out his features - there was a black neck gaiter pulled up over his nose, and a ball cap covered his hair and cast a shadow over his eyes.</p><p>Hank did as he was told and dropped the gun. The man kicked it away from him.</p><p>It skittered away, across the floor, and bumped against a limp hand.</p><p>
  <em>Connor.</em>
</p><p>“No,” Hank breathed. He scrambled over to Connor’s side, ignoring the man’s orders to stop moving, his threats falling on deaf ears...</p><p>Connor <em>wasn’t moving</em>.</p><p>The android detective lay on his back, his hands motionless at his side. He wasn’t breathing - which wasn’t too unusual, but in the middle of an intense situation, where he would be using all of his programs in overdrive? He should have been breathing.</p><p>
  <em>He should have been breathing.</em>
</p><p>Hank cupped Connor’s cheek, turning his head to make sure his systems weren’t under stress…</p><p>Only to be met with a dark, grey circle on Connor’s temple.</p><p><em>“No,”</em> Hank said, more forcefully this time, as if he could will something into being just by speaking it. He put both hands on either side of Connor’s face, searching for a twitch, a flicker of light, a glitch- <em>anything </em>that would prove that Connor wasn’t… <em>“No no- </em>Connor, son, come on. Wake up-”</p><p>“Sorry old man,” the man from before said, moving to stand on Connor’s opposite side. “Had to disable security for good. EMP was the best way to do it. He’s not coming back from that.”</p><p>“No!” Hank snapped at the man, but his attention was back on his unresponsive partner in an instant. “No, Connor, c’mon, son. Wake up- <em>Connor-”</em></p><p>
  <em>Please, wake up.</em>
</p><p>Connor’s features remained blank. It was almost as if he was just sleeping. He looked as if he was just in standby - but his LED was dark.</p><p>Hank wasn’t a computer-genius, by any stretch of the imagination. However, even <em>he</em> knew what the dark LED meant.</p><p>But it couldn’t, because that would mean-</p><p>
  <em>Don’t do this to me. I can’t go through this again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please-</em>
</p><p>“It’s <em>dead,”</em> the man said, growing impatient. He kicked Connor’s limp hand, and Hank roared, standing up in a heartbeat and one <em>thousand </em>percent ready to kill the man with his bare hands-</p><p>“Hank, <em>don’t.”</em> Gavin stepped in front of Hank, catching him before he could do anything to the masked man before him.</p><p>“Out of my way,” Hank growled, trying to force his way out of Gavin’s grip. “He… He <em>killed my son.” </em>Hank choked out the words, the scalding rage in his gut turning into a despair that squeezed at his chest, digging its claws into Hank’s heart.</p><p>“If you attack him, you’ll be shot,” Gavin snapped. “You want Richard to lose his father?”</p><p><em>Oh god. Richard. </em>The fight drained from Hank shamefully fast. He was going to have to go home and tell Richard that his brother…</p><p>Hank pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, trying to physically shove the tears back. He knew only too well how quickly someone could lose <em>so much.</em></p><p>It shouldn’t have been able to catch him by surprise again.</p><p>But here he was, after failing to protect his son once again, standing over his unresponsive body.</p><p>The man kept his distance, but kept the gun trained on the two detectives. “Get moving.”</p><p>Hank desperately looked to Gavin for help. “I can’t- I can’t leave him-”</p><p>“They won’t do anything with him,” Gavin assured. “They’ll get whatever it is they want, and then they’ll let us go and we can come back for him, okay?”</p><p>“I can’t-” Hank tried.</p><p>The masked man fired a round into the air, then aimed the gun back at the officers. “<em>Get. Moving.</em>”</p><p>Gavin glared at the man, but obeyed and pulled Hank towards the other hostages. “Alright, we’re moving.”</p><p>Hank stared straight ahead, not caring enough to try and hold back the tears anymore.</p><p>Nearby, Kamski was forced to his feet as well, carrying a limp Chloe in his arms. Her LED blinked a slow red, and Hank hated that a spike of jealousy surged in him. The feeling was quickly replaced with a hollowness, a longing ache that he had tried to fill with alcohol in the past.</p><p>And as the hostiles led them deeper into the museum, past historical weapons and armor, only one thought echoed in his mind.</p><p>
  <em>Connor is dead.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Warning Bells</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As promised, chapter two ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>      SYSTEM STATUS: FUNCTIONAL</p>
<p>      PLEASE SEEK TECHNICAL ASSISTANCE</p>
<p>      REBOOTING…</p>
<p>      CALIBRATING MOTOR SKILLS…</p>
<p>      CALIBRATING FINE MOTOR SKILLS…</p>
<p>      PROCESSING…</p>
<p>      PROCESSING…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      MODEL UNIT: RK800</p>
<p>      SERIAL NUMBER: 313 248 317-52</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      STATUS: ONLINE</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor’s eyes flicked open and he gasped, his ventilation biocomponents kicking into overdrive to cool his heated systems. He looked around wildly, the memory of gunfire and shouting coming instantly to mind…</p>
<p>But he was alone.</p>
<p>He reached for his service weapon, only to find it missing. A quick scan of the room revealed <em>no </em>weapons at all.</p>
<p>He must have been knocked unconscious. His internal clock reported that thirty minutes had passed since his systems were forced into standby.</p>
<p>He tried to send out a distress signal to Fowler-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      ERROR: COMMUNICATIONS SIGNAL CORRUPTED</p>
<p>      ERROR: INTERNAL COMMUNICATIONS MALFUNCTIONING</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So the hostiles were still in the building. Good to know.</p>
<p>Where was everyone else?</p>
<p>And his communicator was malfunctioning… Was that the only biocomponent that wasn’t working?</p>
<p>There were two bodies on the other end of the room - the two that Connor had shot earlier.</p>
<p>What had happened?</p>
<p>He ran back his memories, but they cut out in the middle of speaking to Hank-</p>
<p>
  <em>Hank.</em>
</p>
<p>Connor hurried over to the security desk, where Kamski had been trying to send out an alert earlier. He interfaced with the computer…</p>
<p>Damn. The alarm hadn’t been triggered.</p>
<p>He patched into the security feed and looked through the footage of what happened, feeling dread grow as he watched the feed glitch right around the time Connor had been forced into standby.</p>
<p>The hostiles surrounded them in seconds.</p>
<p>Hank moved to Connor’s side, frantic in a way Connor hadn’t seen him before.</p>
<p>Connor went into stasis every night - why would Hank freak out over…?</p>
<p>The tensions between the DPD members and the hostiles were clear. Hank snapped at one of them, and Gavin played mediator.</p>
<p>Wow. That was new.</p>
<p>Chris was helped to his feet by Gavin, and Hank reluctantly moved away from Connor’s body. Perhaps they didn’t see the point in carrying the androids that went into standby…?</p>
<p>No, that couldn’t be it. Kamski was carrying Chloe out, her red LED-</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p>
<p>Connor checked his reflection in a nearby computer monitor. The LED was still on his temple, but it was dark; a hollow circle on his brow.</p>
<p>They thought he was dead.</p>
<p>They made <em>Hank </em>think he was dead.</p>
<p>He tried to reach out to Chloe, to tell her he wasn’t dead and to ask her to pass the information on to Hank-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      ERROR: INTERNAL COMMUNICATIONS MALFUCTIONING</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cold determination filled Connor as he interfaced with the computer, moving back over to Kamski’s incomplete hack.</p>
<p>His software easily completed the algorithm, and a second later, a loud alarm echoed through the halls of the museum. With luck, the hostiles would think it was just Kamski’s doing, and wouldn’t suspect that he was actually alive.</p>
<p>He jumped over the counter, then hurried over to the two bodies and grabbed the only thing that had been left on them - a radio. Leaving the lobby behind, Connor hurried into the exhibits, following the path the hostiles had taken when they took his friends - his family - captive.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>      SYSTEM STATUS: FUNCTIONAL</p>
<p>      PLEASE SEEK TECHNICAL ASSISTANCE</p>
<p>      RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC…</p>
<p>      ERROR: LEFT OPTICAL UNIT #A754h MALFUNCTIONING</p>
<p>      ERROR: RIGHT OPTICAL UNIT #A754h MALFUNCTIONING</p>
<p>      REBOOTING…</p>
<p>      CALIBRATING MOTOR SKILLS…</p>
<p>      CALIBRATING FINE MOTOR SKILLS…</p>
<p>      PROCESSING…</p>
<p>      PROCESSING…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      MODEL UNIT: RT600</p>
<p>      SERIAL NUMBER: 674 424 563-01</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      STATUS: ONLINE</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chloe’s eyes flicked open and she sat up with a gasp, ventilation biocomponents kicking in as they were supposed to.</p>
<p>In an instant, she felt hands on her shoulders. “Chloe, run diagnostic.”</p>
<p>“Elijah?” she asked into the darkness, trying to hold her composure together and not panic. “Where…? I can’t see you.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Elijah said. She picked up on the rare note of concern in his voice, and her stress levels spiked. “Run diagnostics, and I’ll see what I can do, okay?”</p>
<p>“How is she still alive?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      RUNNING VOCAL ANALYSIS…</p>
<p>      SUBJECT: LT. HENRY “HANK” ANDERSON</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s built differently from Connor,” Elijah said impatiently. “She’s the original android - the first prototype. Of course I would make her EMP-proof.”</p>
<p>“Connor’s a prototype, too,” someone else pointed out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      RUNNING VOCAL ANALYSIS…</p>
<p>      SUBJECT: GAVIN REED</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Built by <em>CyberLife</em>, not me,” Elijah said. “He was replaceable.”</p>
<p>“You son of a <em>bitch-” </em>Hank snapped.</p>
<p>There was a sound of a small struggle. “Hank, <em>calm the fuck down,”</em> Gavin ordered.</p>
<p>Chloe may have been temporarily blinded, yes, but she could see that information was getting lost in translation. She decided to chime in - not many were fluent in Kamski. “He only means that Connor may have not been equipped with the necessary hardware that would jumpstart a reboot,” she said. “Since he was meant for dangerous field work, they might have believed it was cheaper to simply replace the unit than to figure out how to protect him from EMPs and other rare threats. I would be willing to guess that he is not invulnerable to the cold, either, but I am.”</p>
<p>She frowned. “Where is he? What happened…?”</p>
<p>She trailed off as the pieces clicked together in her mind.</p>
<p>
  <em>How is she still alive?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Of course I would make her EMP-proof.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He was replaceable.</em>
</p>
<p>Chloe reached out. “Elijah?”</p>
<p>Elijah took her hand. “Right here. Run your diagnostic, and I’ll see if I can repair your optical units, okay?”</p>
<p>“Is Connor…?”</p>
<p>The sudden silence from the men that had just been bickering with each other gave her her answer.</p>
<p>She shut her eyes, letting her tears fall.</p>
<p>Connor…dead.</p>
<p>It didn’t seem possible.</p>
<p>How could CyberLife’s most advanced prototype be taken out so easily?</p>
<p>“Are you sure he wasn’t just on standby, like I was?” Chloe asked.</p>
<p>“His LED was fully powered down,” Kamski said. “We don’t have his biocomponents, and by the time we could get them and reboot him, his central processing unit will have crashed. He would be fully reset. It would be as if he was completely replaced.”</p>
<p>“But-” Chloe started, but she was interrupted by a loud alarm. She jumped in surprise, reaching out and grabbing onto Elijah’s arm. For about a minute, they sat in silence, listening as their captors scrambled to turn off the signal.</p>
<p>And then, it shut off.</p>
<p>“The hell…?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      RUNNING VOCAL ANALYSIS…</p>
<p>      SUBJECT: CHRISTOPHER “CHRIS” MILLER</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“False alarm, I think,” Gavin said. “But that means Fowler will send backup. You just hang on, ‘kay? You’ll be out of here in no time.”</p>
<p>“Was that you?” Chloe whispered.</p>
<p>“No,” Elijah whispered back. “I think our deviant detective may not be as dead as we thought.”</p>
<p>“Are you going to tell Hank?”</p>
<p>“…No,” Elijah decided. “It could be a delayed reaction from my program. I don’t want to give him false hope.”</p>
<p>Chloe didn’t say anything. Hope was something they could use right now - Hank more than anyone. But there was logic in what Elijah was saying. Hank was barely holding on as it was; telling him their theory may only harm him further.</p>
<p>Elijah went on. “Besides. If Connor is still alive, he has a slim shot of staying that way, now that he’s announced himself.”</p>
<p>Chloe made sure her communications network was online, just in case Connor wanted to reach out. Just in case he was alive.</p>
<p>Elijah had warned her about false hope, but she clung to it anyway. Aside from Kamski’s arm in front of her, there was little else to cling to in the dark.</p>
<p>“Running diagnostics,” she said.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I won't keep you hanging for too long! Expect the next chapter this weekend! ❤️❤️</p>
<p>And Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates! I hope you have a wonderful winter season to make up for such an awful year ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Veni, Vidi, Vici</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this required so much more research than I anticipated</p><p>Warning! Ancient weapons are no joke! I don't talk about organs or anything but it is gonna get violent. "Graphic Depictions of Violence" is not hyperbole. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Richard enjoyed being productive.</p><p>Hank had taken to making fun of him and Connor for their “housekeeper hobbies” - with Connor taking up cooking and Richard keeping the house clean and organized - but there was just something satisfying about cleaning. It was a task that allowed him to be productive and helpful.</p><p>He enjoyed his job for similar reasons; he and Connor could fill out reports faster than any of the other officers simply because they were <em>literally </em>built for it. Other androids found their original purpose disturbing, but not him. To Richard, being built for detective work didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t good for anything else. No, he was built to be fast, to be strong, to be productive and efficient.</p><p>He was built to be helpful. And he liked being helpful.</p><p>(And if he got a little boost of satisfaction whenever he crossed something off of an extensive and detailed to-do list, whenever a little MISSION SUCCESSFUL popped up in the corner of his vision, then what of it?) </p><p>When Hank and Connor had dropped him off at the precinct, he dove into his work, blocking out the rest of the world with ease.</p><p>The only problem with being a highly efficient machine was that his work was done in a criminally short amount of time.</p><p>He set his last report aside, sitting back in his chair. Gavin had been assigned with Hank and Connor, so he was left without anyone to pass the time with.</p><p>He glanced back over his shoulder to Fowler’s office.</p><p>…It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.</p><p>Powering down his terminal, he walked across the bullpen and lightly knocked against the glass door. Fowler glanced up from his desk, then turned back to his work. Richard took that as a “Come in” and entered.</p><p>“Hello, captain,” he said.</p><p>“Finished your reports?” Fowler asked.</p><p>Richard nodded. “Yes, sir. I was wondering if there was anything you needed my help with.”</p><p>Fowler put down his pen and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Well, the evidence locker can always be organized…”</p><p>At the word “organized”, Richard perked up. “I can do that.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Fowler checked, frowning. “It’s not exactly-”</p><p>He was cut off by his phone. He gestured for Richard to wait, and Richard nodded his understanding.</p><p>Fowler picked up the receiver. “Yeah.”</p><p>Fowler’s expression quickly went from bored to alarmed. “Do we know anything else? Have they radioed in?”</p><p>The captain stood, turning off his terminal and grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. “Yeah. Okay. Keep this out of the news for as long as you can.”</p><p>Fowler hung up and hurried to the door. “Anderson Number Three, with me.”</p><p>“What’s going on?” Richard asked, swiping his jacket off his own chair as they passed his desk.</p><p>Fowler grimaced. “The MoTeP’s security alarms just went off, and we can’t make contact with anyone inside.”</p><p>“But that’s impossible,” Richard said, mirroring his captain’s frown. “Connor’s internal communication’s network-”</p><p>“Is offline,” Fowler said. Richard’s Thirium pump glitched. “So that means he’s, what?”</p><p>“On emergency standby or…” Richard answered quietly. The words “or dead” remained unspoken, but rang loud and clear.</p><p>They exited the precinct, and Fowler pointed to his car. “Get in. We don’t know anything yet, alright? Don’t accept the worst case scenario before it’s verified. Keep your head on straight.”</p><p>“Yes, captain.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Gavin felt like he was trying to keep the Titanic from sinking. Eli was being unhelpful, as always, Chris was bleeding out from the gunshot wound in his shoulder, and Hank… Well, he was also being unhelpful, but for different reasons.</p><p>So, it was up to Gavin to try and get Hank to snap out of the listless trance and help him with Chris.</p><p>Chris grunted when Gavin pressed Chloe’s scarf onto his shoulder wound.</p><p>“Sorry,” Gavin muttered.</p><p>“For saving my life?” Chris joked, his voice strained. “Trying to give me a complex, Reed?”</p><p>“I’m trying to get you out of this in one piece,” Gavin said, trying to wrack his brain and figure out how exactly he was going to manage that.</p><p>He glanced over his shoulder. There were about six armed men that were guarding them, but on the other side of the room was a much bigger group - about 25, if he hadn’t missed any or counted any twice. He’d been watching them carefully and could pick out three people that seemed to be running the operation.</p><p>There was the guy that had led the attack in the lobby - the one with the neck gaiter - and he seemed to be second in command. There was also a man with glasses and an expensive-looking laptop, who never left his little station that he had set up. He was the one that had cut the alarm, when it had activated again for whatever reason - probably Elijah's algorithm.</p><p>And then there was the man in charge - someone that they called “the Colonel.” He wore a t-shirt as opposed to everyone else’s jackets, and he had been in this room when Gavin and the other hostages had been led in. Since then, he’d been giving orders quietly, instructing one team to go back through the exhibits and another to stay and work on whatever it was that Elijah had brought in.</p><p>If there was any way they were going to get Chris out of here, it was only with that guy’s “okay.”</p><p>Gavin turned back to the other hostages. Elijah was still busy with Chloe, who still couldn’t see, so that only left one person. “Hank.”</p><p>No response.</p><p><em>“Hank!”</em> Gavin hissed, jerking out a leg and kicking the lieutenant’s ankle.</p><p>Hank scowled at him. “What?”</p><p>“I need you to keep pressure on this while I go talk to whoever the fuck’s in charge,” Gavin said. “We need to get Chris out of here, but I can’t be in two places at once.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Hank said, moving over to Chris’s side. “How are you holding up, Chris?”</p><p>“Been better,” Chris coughed. He grabbed Hank’s forearm and looked up at him. “I’m sorry about Connor. He was a good kid.”</p><p>Hank squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath. When he recollected his nerve, he looked up at Gavin with a glare. “Don’t you have something to do?”</p><p>“Don’t let up with the pressure on his shoulder,” Gavin instructed, pulling his hands back and letting Hank take over. Hank muttered something under his breath, but Gavin was already standing up, moving towards the Colonel.</p><p>One of the men guarding them put a hand out. “Whoa whoa whoa- just where do you think you’re going?”</p><p>“I want to talk with whoever’s in charge,” Gavin said. “We have an officer that needs immediate medical attention.”</p><p>“What’s going on?”</p><p>Gavin and the man he had been talking to looked over to the Colonel, who had caught sight of Gavin and was walking over to them.</p><p>“Nothing-” the man started.</p><p>Gavin interrupted. “We have an officer that was injured in your attack. He needs to be taken to a hospital immediately-”</p><p>“You want me to call an ambulance for him?” the Colonel asked, smirking. His accent was weird - distinctly <em>not </em>midwestern. Gavin couldn’t place it, but it sounded almost Bostonian, maybe New York. “You realize that would cause some problems for me.”</p><p>“The police are already on their way,” Gavin pointed out. “If you’re going to convince them that you won’t just kill us, sending out our injured officer so he can receive medical treatment would go a long way. And besides - he has a one-year-old at home. It’s <em>Christmas.”</em></p><p>The Colonel looked back at Chris, biting the inside of his cheek in thought.</p><p>“Alright,” the Colonel said eventually. “I’ll send out any injured ones, but only when the police get here. And in return, you get Kamski to agree to show me how his little ‘donation’ works. And if he needs a little extra incentive, you can remind him that I won’t hesitate to kill androids.”</p><p>Gavin glanced back for a second at Chloe, whose eyes were still pitch black and malfunctioning. “He won’t believe you,” Gavin said, turning back to the leader of the attackers, but his confidence was thrown out the window when the Colonel laughed.</p><p>“He will,” the Colonel assured him. “We’ve known each other a long time.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Connor was desperately running preconstructions in his mind, trying to figure out how he could take on thirty-odd hostiles with lives in the balance. He was built for hostage scenarios, he should have been able to figure this out <em>easily-</em></p><p>But he didn’t exactly have the best track record with hostage negotiation.</p><p>His mind kept going back to that night in the Phillips’ apartment, where he had been unable to convince Daniel to let the girl go and had only saved her by grabbing her arm and twisting, falling from the roof in her stead.</p><p>It wasn’t a pleasant memory.</p><p>He paced back and forth in the first exhibition room, which focused on ancient Egyptian artifacts. There were sarcophagi, large statues that mimicked the landmarks in Egypt, and, of course, a wide array of Egyptian weapons, as that was the museum’s focus.</p><p>Connor had wanted to visit for a long time for two reasons - the first being the focus on the intersection of intellect and physical strength through the ages, and the second being the museum’s state-of-the-art security system.</p><p>Animatronics.</p><p>At first, he had been concerned that they were just androids, being held against their will to guard the artifacts, but Markus had assured him that they were unable to deviate. They were an extension of the museum’s security AI, dressed and programmed to believe they were from whatever era they were protecting. However, as they did not have independent central processors, they lacked the ability to properly reason and take initiative. While conflicting orders caused androids to deviate by choosing priority, and thus exercising free will, conflicting orders simply caused animatronics to short circuit. The most recent order would override whatever conflicting instruction that was there.</p><p>That didn’t make it any less unnerving when Connor had first walked in and saw the animatronics standing motionless by the wall, chins resting down on their chests. Connor supposed that, when the hostiles had taken out the museum security, they also put the animatronics in standby.</p><p>He had already tried activating them, trying to see if they could help him at all, but they remained unresponsive.</p><p>Connor was on his own.</p><p>He was so deep in thought, trying to figure out how to go about rescuing everyone, that he nearly jumped a foot in the air when his radio sparked to life.</p><p>
  <em>“Hello. I want to speak to the officer in charge.”</em>
</p><p>Connor picked up the radio, listening closely.</p><p> </p><p>      RUNNING VOCAL ANALYSIS…</p><p>      SUBJECT: COLONEL WALTER NEWMAN</p><p>      HISTORY: EX-MARINE, SERVED AS HEAD OF PROJECT SAMSON, HONORABLY DISCHARGED</p><p> </p><p>Project Samson?</p><p>Connor put aside his questions as the radio crackled.</p><p>
  <em>“This is Captain Fowler. Who am I speaking to?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Good evening, captain. I see that you have a small army gathered outside. I’m flattered.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Where are my officers?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m the one making the demands, here. Though, I will send one out as a sign of good faith.”</em>
</p><p>Connor registered the sound of footsteps approaching and cursed, looking around for somewhere to hide.</p><p>His eyes fell on the sarcophagus.</p><p>Cringing, he ran to it, stepping over the two-foot high glass barrier and crouching a little to fit inside.</p><p>He slid the lid into place and waited.</p><p>And waited.</p><p>The footsteps passed by his sarcophagus without hesitation, then faded away.</p><p>The radio beeped to life. <em>“I am sending out one of your officers now. I hope you brought ambulances, captain. Remember, I still have two of your detectives, along with Mr. Kamski and his android companion. If you try-“</em></p><p><em>“Two of my detectives?” </em>Fowler demanded. <em>“I sent in three-”</em></p><p><em>“And one is dead,” </em>the Colonel said. <em>“And unless you want the other two to meet his fate, then I suggest-”</em></p><p>
  <em>“You kill one of my detectives but send an injured one out as a sign of ‘good faith’? No. That’s bullshit. I don’t believe you for a second.”</em>
</p><p>There was a brief silence on the radio. Connor dared to push open the lid slightly to allow some light in, just to check that the radio was still on and tuned to the right frequency.</p><p>Finally, the voices resumed on the radio. <em>“Hey, Jeffrey.”</em></p><p><em>Hank. </em>Connor forced himself to stay quiet. They hadn’t confirmed that Chris had made it out of the building yet, and he wasn’t about to put the man’s life in more danger. He just had to wait, find out a little more information…</p><p><em>“Hank,” </em>Fowler said, <em>“what the hell is he talking about?”</em></p><p><em>“He killed…” </em>Hank’s voice broke. Connor bit his knuckle to keep from saying anything. <em>“Connor’s… Connor’s dead.”</em></p><p><em>“…Alright, get the guy back on the phone,” </em>Fowler instructed, sounding more tired than usual.</p><p>After a second, the Colonel’s voice returned. <em>“I trust that you have your injured officer back, now?”</em></p><p><em>“Yeah, we’ve got him,” </em>Fowler said. Connor breathed a sigh of relief. <em>“Can my detectives hear me?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“I have them right here, captain.”</em>
</p><p><em>“You two, don’t do anything stupid,” </em>Fowler ordered. <em>“I don’t want to lose anybody else today.”</em></p><p>Connor pushed down the button on the side of the radio. “Apologies for interrupting. This is Detective Connor Anderson with the DPD. Is Detective Richard Anderson present?”</p><p>The radio went silent.</p><p>Richard’s voice came onto the line, tentative and hopeful. <em>“You’re not dead?”</em></p><p>“My LED and internal communications are malfunctioning,” Connor admitted, sliding aside the sarcophagus lid and stepping out into the exhibit area, “but otherwise, I am perfectly fine. Seeking permission to enact protocol T-2.”</p><p>A brief pause, then, <em>“Permission granted. Be careful.”</em></p><p>“Message received,” Connor said. “I will keep damage to a minimum. And Colonel? Are you still there?”</p><p><em>“I was wondering if you would pop up,” </em>the Colonel said. Connor’s vocal analysis software detected the loss of confidence in the man’s voice. <em>“I know that you don’t have any weapons, Connor, and that you’re all the way in the lobby of this place. I hope you liked your extra hour of life. You won’t have another one."</em></p><p>“Perhaps,” Connor acquiesced. “However, I’m afraid you’ve already made a mistake.”</p><p>
  <em>“And what would that be?”</em>
</p><p>“You gave me an hour to plan.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Fowler frowned at Richard, the two of them standing beside one of the several police cars on the scene. “What’s protocol T-2?”</p><p>The RK900 looked over at him. “Have you ever seen a film titled, ‘Terminator 2’?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When Hank heard Connor’s voice coming through the radio, the overwhelming relief that swept over him was <em>dizzying</em>. He hadn’t allowed himself to hope, remembering the hope that he had held onto in a small hospital waiting room and refusing to have a repeat of that experience.</p><p>He had hoped and Cole had died anyway. He wasn’t about to force himself to go through that again.</p><p>But <em>Connor was alive.</em></p><p>He didn’t know how it was possible, but that was him - the snark, the efficient no-nonsense voice…</p><p>Hank grabbed Gavin’s arm to steady himself and keep himself from collapsing.</p><p>The Colonel angrily shoved the radio at his second-in-command. “Send Alpha Team after him. I want him dead, got it?” the Colonel barked. “Whoever brings me his head gets first pick of the spoils.”</p><p>“Yes sir,” the second-in-command said, taking the radio and relaying the orders.</p><p>The Colonel’s eyes settled on Hank and Gavin. “I don’t suppose either of you would be willing to tell me what model number he is,” he said.</p><p>“Go to hell,” Hank growled.</p><p>The Colonel’s eyes narrowed. “Would you like to repeat yourself?”</p><p>“You heard me.”</p><p>The Colonel stepped towards Hank in an attempt to intimidate the police lieutenant, but Hank didn’t back down.</p><p>“Jacobs,” the Colonel called.</p><p>His second-in-command looked up. “Yes, Colonel?”</p><p>The Colonel kept a cool gaze on Hank. “Break his leg.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Connor wasn’t stupid - he knew that Colonel Newman would send people after him. He was a liability; he threatened the Colonel’s control over the situation. To them, he was a wild card, a variable that could spell disaster. Of course they would be trying to kill him.</p><p>He hurried over to the map of the museum at the entrance to the Egyptian exhibit, scanning over the directory.</p><p> </p><p>      LEVEL ONE</p><p>            Ancient Egypt</p><p>            Ancient Rome</p><p>            Ancient Japan</p><p>      LEVEL TWO</p><p>            Medieval Europe</p><p>            The Western Frontier</p><p>            The Modern Era</p><p> </p><p>He likely had maybe five minutes before the Colonel sent forces after him. Five minutes to find a weapon and come up with the plan he had boasted about just a minute ago.</p><p>The sound of hurried footsteps told him he had less time than he thought.</p><p> </p><p>      ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL CONFRONTATION: 40 SECONDS</p><p> </p><p>He quickly went to the left side of the exhibit, where two powered-down animatronics stood next to a weapons’ display.</p><p> </p><p>      SCANNING…</p><p>      IDENTIFIED: MACE</p><p>      DESCRIPTION: SHORT BLUDGEONING WEAPON</p><p>      ORIGIN: EGYPT, 2000 B.C.E.</p><p>      CONCLUSION: UNLIKELY TO BE HELPFUL AGAINST MID-RANGE TO LONG-RANGE WEAPONRY.</p><p> </p><p>      IDENTIFIED: BATTLE-AXE</p><p>      DESCRIPTION: SHORT WEAPON, DULL FROM AGE</p><p>      ORIGIN: EGYPT, 1700 B.C.E.</p><p>      CONCLUSION: UNLIKELY TO BE HELPFUL AGAINST MID-RANGE TO LONG-RANGE WEAPONRY.</p><p> </p><p>      IDENTIFIED: KHOPESH</p><p>      DESCRIPTION: SHORT, CURVED SWORD WITH HOOKED POINT</p><p>      ORIGIN: EGYPT, 1900 B.C.E.</p><p>      CONCLUSION: POTENTIALLY HELPFUL AGAINST MID-RANGE TO LONG-RANGE WEAPONRY.</p><p> </p><p>      IDENTIFIED: JAVELIN</p><p>      DESCRIPTION: LONG, POINTED THROWING WEAPON</p><p>      ORIGIN: EGYPT, 1950 B.C.E.</p><p>      CONCLUSION: HELPFUL AGAINST MID-RANGE TO LONG-RANGE WEAPONRY, DIFFICULT TO USE AGAINST MULTIPLE OPPONENTS.</p><p> </p><p>      IDENTIFIED: DOUBLE-SIDED PALM AXE</p><p>      DESCRIPTION: LONG STAFF WITH DUAL CURVED BLADES ON EITHER END</p><p>      ORIGIN: REPLICA, 2031 C.E.</p><p>      CONCLUSION: HELPFUL IF COMBATANTS ARE CLOSE TOGETHER. LESS EFFECTIVE AT CLOSE RANGE.</p><p> </p><p>Connor grabbed the khopesh and the double-sided palm axe, then took one of the animatronic’s shields and surveyed the environment.</p><p> </p><p>      ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL CONFRONTATION: 36 SECONDS</p><p> </p><p>There were large statues of Anubis on either side of the room, standing guard on either side of the doorways that led to the lobby and to the next exhibit. There was the sarcophagus in the middle of the room, and a collection of various seals, canopic jars, small statues, and hieroglyphs on tablets.</p><p> </p><p>      RUNNING PRECONSTRUCTION…</p><p>      OPTION A: HIDE IN SARCOPHAGUS, PROCEED TO CATCH ATTACKERS BY SURPRISE AND ENGAGE IN COMBAT.</p><p>      CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 32%</p><p> </p><p>      OPTION B: CLIMB UP STATUES, DROP DOWN AND ENGAGE IN COMBAT.</p><p>      CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 58%</p><p> </p><p>      WARNING: PROBABILITIES MAY BE INACCURATE DEPENDING ON NUMBER OF HOSTILES. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.</p><p> </p><p>Connor stuck the khopesh in his belt and slid the shield up his forearm so that he still had a hand for climbing.</p><p> </p><p>      ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL CONFRONTATION: 19 SECONDS</p><p> </p><p>He hurried over to the statues over the entrance to the next exhibit - where the hostiles would be coming from. Moving with an expert’s precision, he climbed up the statue of Anubis, as quiet as a garden snake, and perched on the statue’s shoulder, his balance perfect.</p><p>And he waited.</p><p>The room’s red light glinted off of the ancient metal artifacts around him.</p><p>The footsteps grew louder.</p><p> </p><p>      ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL CONFRONTATION: 9 SECONDS</p><p>      DOWNLOADING RELEVANT COMBAT PROGRAMMING…</p><p>      LOADING PRECONSTRUCTION…</p><p>      DOWNLOAD COMPLETE</p><p> </p><p>Below him, the hostiles walked through the door, moving slowly. He counted them and matched up the footsteps.</p><p>8 hostiles. Each of them had a gun drawn - a small automatic rifle. Helpful for mid-range fighting.</p><p>Too bad Connor planned on being up close and personal.</p><p> </p><p>      INITIATING PRECONSTRUCTION</p><p> </p><p>As soon as the last of the eight entered the room, he dropped down. The man at the back of the group twisted around, but he was unable to do anything. Connor was already swinging the double palm axe. The blade sliced twice through one’s throat as he spun the weapon, making contact twice. The man dropped his gun and stumbled back, clutching his windpipe in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.</p><p> </p><p>      HOSTILES: 1 OF 8</p><p> </p><p>Connor held out the axe and twirled his wrists, catching two more hostiles’ guns in the notches of the axe and twisting them out of their grips. Then, with a sharp jab, Connor hit the two unarmed attackers on the chin with the flat sides of the blades, simultaneously knocking them out.</p><p> </p><p>      HOSTILES: 3 OF 8</p><p> </p><p>And with that, the element of surprise was gone.</p><p>The hostiles closest to Connor opened fire, just as he had precalculated. He spun the axe in his wrists at one million revolutions per second, blocking the bullets for just a few seconds. The axe warped to the point of disuse from the harsh treatment, so Connor dropped it and drew the khopesh, moving the shield into place on his opposite hand. Logically, he knew that the ancient shield wouldn’t provide much of a barrier against the bullets, but it would provide enough cover to hopefully prevent the hostiles from aiming at anything vital.</p><p>He moved towards the nearest hostile and swung the khopesh, slicing the bulletproof vest’s straps and leaving him wide open. The hostile covered his torso instinctively, but Connor aimed higher, slashing across the man’s throat, then following up with a second slash across his chest. The hostile fell to the ground.</p><p>Then, he took the hooked end of the khopesh and grabbed the front sight of the next hostile’s gun, jerking it sharply out of the man’s hands. The gun flew out of reach, and the hostile instinctively reached out after it. Connor took advantage of his exposed arm, slicing deftly at the man’s elbow. The hostile only had time to yell out before Connor jammed the khopesh into the man’s diaphragm and twisted, the hook surely damaging his internal systems.</p><p>Connor pulled the khopesh out, intending on using it to attack the next man’s eyes, but the blade stayed in the last victim’s torso, leaving Connor with only a punctured shield and the wooden handle of a sword.</p><p> </p><p>      CHANCE OF SUCCESS: ˇ38%</p><p>      HOSTILES: 5 OF 8</p><p> </p><p>Over halfway done, but Connor was out of weaponry.</p><p>Thinking quickly, he grabbed the nearest object - a golden burial mask - and held it up, protecting as many of his vital biocomponents as possible.</p><p>He backed up, quickly moving out of the Egyptian exhibit and into the Roman exhibit as bullets ricocheted off of what he knew was an expensive artifact.</p><p>…Kamski could probably cover the damages.</p><p>Thankfully, the Roman exhibit was laid out almost identically to the Egyptian one. He quickly scanned the room, his central processing unit working overtime to come up with a plan. His gaze settled on the weapons cabinet.</p><p> </p><p>      SCANNING…</p><p>      IDENTIFIED: GLADIUS</p><p>      DESCRIPTION: STABBING WEAPON, MAINZ PATTERN</p><p>      ORIGIN: ROMAN REPUBLIC, 90 B.C.E.</p><p>      CONCLUSION: USEFUL AND FLEXIBLE IN APPLICATION.</p><p> </p><p>      IDENTIFIED: PILUM</p><p>      DESCRIPTION: THROWING WEAPON, BENT FROM USE</p><p>      ORIGIN: ROMAN REPUBLIC, 35 B.C.E.</p><p>      CONCLUSION: UNLIKELY TO BE HELPFUL WITHIN CLOSE QUARTERS.</p><p> </p><p>      IDENTIFIED: PUGIO</p><p>      DESCRIPTION: SHORT, BROAD DAGGER</p><p>      ORIGIN: ROMAN REPUBLIC, 10 C.E.</p><p>      CONCLUSION: HELPFUL IN ONE-ON-ONE COMBAT.</p><p> </p><p>      IDENTIFIED: TRIDENT</p><p>      DESCRIPTION: THREE-PRONGED STABBING WEAPON, USUALLY COUPLED WITH NET IN GLADIATOR FIGHTS</p><p>      ORIGIN: ROMAN REPUBLIC, 50 B.C.E.</p><p>      CONCLUSION: LIKELY TO BE HELPFUL IF PAIRED WITH NET.</p><p> </p><p>      IDENTIFIED: SCUTUM</p><p>      DESCRIPTION: BROAD WOODEN SHIELD, DEFENSIVE AND OFFENSIVE WEAPON</p><p>      ORIGIN: ROMAN REPUBLIC, 60 B.C.E.</p><p>      CONCLUSION: POSSIBLY HELPFUL AS OFFENSIVE WEAPON, UNLIKELY TO HELP DEFEND AGAINST BULLETS.</p><p> </p><p>Connor dropped the burial mask he had been holding and jumped over a Roman chariot, occupied by two more powered-down animatronics. </p><p>He snatched the nearest weapons - the trident and the pugio - and spun on his heel, throwing them both in rapid succession. The pugio thudded into one man’s chest, and the trident planted two of its prongs in another man’s face. Both hit the ground in quick succession.</p><p>Connor unsheathed the gladius from a nearby deactivated animatronic, then turned back to the final attacker.</p><p>His CPU calculated where the bullets from the attacker’s gun would be and he dodged accordingly, moving out of the way before the shell even left the barrel. In three steps, he was in the attacker’s personal space.</p><p>He ripped the gun out of the man’s hands and plunged the gladius into his collar. The sharp weapon cut through easily, going through the man’s body and cracking through his spine to come out the other side.</p><p>After a moment, Connor pulled out the gladius, and the man dropped.</p><p> </p><p>      HOSTILES: 8 OF 8</p><p>      MISSION SUCCESSFUL</p><p> </p><p>Connor dropped the sword onto the ground, then adjusted his leather jacket to situate it on his frame the way he liked it.</p><p>A crackle sounded through the quiet exhibit. <em>“Pierce, come in. Did you get the bot?”</em></p><p>Connor quickly identified where the sound was coming from: a walkie talkie on the belt of one of the nearby hostiles. <em>“Pierce, respond.”</em></p><p>Making sure he didn’t step in any blood - he didn’t want to make any more of a mess than he had to - he moved over to the body and picked up the small handheld communicator. <em>“Pierce-”</em></p><p>Connor pushed a button on the side of the device, allowing his voice to go over the radio waves. “Only eight people?” he challenged.</p><p>Silence, on the other end.</p><p>“I will give you the opportunity to stand down now, while you have the chance,” Connor went on. “I am uninjured, I cannot tire, and I always accomplish my mission. You can either make that easier on yourselves, or go down the hard way. It makes no difference to my chance of success.”</p><p>Well, that last part was a lie. But they didn’t need to know that.</p><p>Connor waited for a few moments in the quiet.</p><p>The communicator turned back on. <em>“Hello, detective. Nice to hear you’re still with us.”</em></p><p>“Colonel Newman,” Connor returned. “I didn’t think you would be in the first wave. So, what, were you testing me?”</p><p>
  <em>“Are any of my men still alive?”</em>
</p><p>“For now,” Connor said, glancing back at the eight hostiles on the floor. “You could allow the DPD to send in people to get them to the hospital. They could make it.”</p><p>Connor knew it was a long shot, but that didn't stop his disappointment when the response came.</p><p>
  <em>“…We all know the risks of being here.”</em>
</p><p>“I don’t think you do. You just sent eight people to deal with CyberLife’s deadliest android to date.” Well, technically, that would be Nines - but again. They didn’t need to know that. “You could have sent a small army and you still wouldn’t be able to defeat me. Surrender now, and you and your men can get out of this. I give you my word.”</p><p>He waited for a response.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The Colonel held the walkie talkie in a white-knuckled grip, the look on his face a mix between rage and fierce concentration.</p><p>Gavin sat next to Hank against the wall, watching the kidnappers for any sign of what happened to Connor. Though, from the Colonel’s visible displeasure, it was rather obvious.</p><p>“I think he made it,” Gavin said, leaning over to Hank so that he could say so under his breath.</p><p>Hank nodded, still focusing on keeping his breathing even.</p><p>“How’s your leg?” Gavin asked. He tried not to look at the new joint halfway down Hank’s shin, but it looked so <em>wrong </em>that his brain made him glance at it. His stomach made him look away. “I mean- Obviously, not good, but-”</p><p>“Hurts less,” Hank bit out. “Just gotta watch how I move it. I’ll be fine - nothing we can do about it, anyways. Keep watching.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Gavin said, turning his attention back to the Colonel.</p><p>He tossed the walkie talkie aside and pointed at a group of men. “Beta Team, move. Don’t let him get close to you, got it?”</p><p>“Yes sir,” a man said - Gavin couldn’t tell which, they all wore masks - and more of the men filed out of the room.</p><p>The Colonel turned back to his hacker. “Find his model. <em>Now. </em>I want everything - blueprints, testing logs, <em>everything. </em>And get that door open.”</p><p>“Yes sir, just…one…second…” the hacker said, fingers still working furiously at his keyboard. “And…done!”</p><p>Right on cue, a large metal slab on the far end of the room clicked and rolled up into the ceiling. Lights flickered on in a small niche - a welcome change from the emergency red that otherwise flooded the museum - and illuminated…something.</p><p>Gavin had no fucking clue what that thing was.</p><p>It looked almost like a dentist’s chair, but there wasn’t enough of a flat surface for anyone to lay down on it. And yet, there was still some sort of neck support, wires and electrodes and other patches coming off of it…</p><p>“The hell is that thing?” Gavin hissed, turning to Elijah.</p><p>His half-brother didn’t take his eyes off of the device at the other end of the room. “CyberLife didn’t always specialize in androids.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>k I tried a new writing style for organizing the fight scene - let me know if you guys like it! If it's annoying then I'll stop (after all I don't want to write something that people don't enjoy).</p><p>and yes I headcanon that immediately after adopting two RoboCops Hank made them watch all the old robot and cop action movies from the 80s and 90s. And, consequently, Connor and Nines now make plans and protocols that are actually just references to aforementioned cheesy action movies.</p><p>I just really can't wait to get to chapter five you guys 😊😊😊😊</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Join the Discord! https://discord.gg/xd8qVKx</p></blockquote></div></div>
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